Can I speak of things grim and clean
Of times lost remembered and forgotten again
Waking sleeping dogs
Allowing them to lie
Can it be the things of old that hold a nation so
Stop
Let go
Are your dreams clean
Nightmares stain the streets that still remain
Remaining witnesses of days laced with oblivion
Laced with the things that make me
If I forget will we grow
If you remember who will be destroyed
There are things of conciousness
Strong
A people of distance
A nation within a nation
My sanity soaked in remembrance
How often will I be denied
If I stare in your eye will truth tell lie
Flowers bloom in our bleak pastures
Meadows deep with forgotten bliss
It is the things of the slippery mind
Told in four ways just to hide
Can the red bright in the sky tell the meaning
Will the green of the land smooth the way
We had to stay
Our beds all made
We are a true way
Our words make
Our sway enhances
It is the bleakness that defines
Your lies have been sublime upon the skin
Warmest blanket to wrap within
We are a way clear
Springing forth to believe again
The past our present
Forgotten to be relived
Walking through hard earned footsteps
We have to see
We have to believe
We have to be
We are seas deep
Skies blue
Understand your rich hue
